Black eye
by gonattsaga
Summary: Young Man POV as him and David plan. Set before the movie, but told after the fact. Slash fiction which is canon, in this case


-1Title: The black eye.

Fandom: Dark Harbour

Pairing: David (Alan Rickman)/Young Man (Norman Reedus)

Rating: PG (m/m kissing and some mild violence)

Summary: Young Man POV as him and David plan. Set before the movie, but told after the fact.

A/N: Spoilers for the the whole film, basically. But if you haven't seen it, you won't get any of the story either.

That's when I knew. I could've called the whole thing off, then and there, and spared the woman's life, but I didn't. I almost wish I could blame greed, or vanity, and say it was about the money, or the house, but I'd be lying. It was never about the money.

We'd been planning for weeks. At first it was just talk, and then it became a morbid game of emotional foreplay that slowly but steadily evolved into something else entirely. What was once a fantasy became deadly serious, and all too real. But if David had any second thoughts along the way he never voiced them, If he had any qualms or pangs of conscience, he kept them well-hidden from me.

But when the time came to get things moving, to start the actual preparations, he wavered.

"I… I can't", he said and brushed his fingertips across the skin under my left eye like he was already mourning its perfection even though it was still intact.

"You have to", I told him kindly.

I put my hands on his hips. I moved my thumbs in under the hem of his shirt, touched his bare skin, marvelled at the heat and softness of it. His eyes fluttered closed.

"Have to make it real", I murmured against his lips, and he gasped.

I pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. He pushed forward to make it last longer, he followed me as I moved back, like he couldn't help himself, like he was drawn to me like a magnet or something. I smiled.

"You have to", I whispered. "Have to make it believable, David. Come on, we've talked about this…"

"I know", he muttered, or whined more like, as though the words themselves caused him pain. "I know, but I don't think I can now it comes down to it, I'm sorry…"

"David…"

"I'm sorry!"

"David, you can, of course you can", I told him, I soothed him.

I pulled him close again. I put my arms around him and let him rest his head on my chest like an upset child. I rubbed my hands across his back. Long, gentle strokes. Nothing sexual about it, just comforting and loving caresses; this was a new stage in our relationship, I just knew it. My chest swelled with the feeling of it, with the love and the certainty and the joy, and even as I kept convincing him, that right there, was really all the proof I needed from him.

"You can and you will", I told him.

"But I don't want to hurt you…"

"I know", I soothed. "I know…"

"I don't ever want to hurt you. I much rather kill myself than hurt you…"

"Hush. Don't talk like that", I said and squeezed him tight. "Come on, David. It's just a black eye. The pain will be temporary. The bruise will fade. And I've had much worse."

"Not from me."

"No. Of course not. But it's the necessary means to an end, and I only trust you to do it, I don't want to have to go to a bar and pick a fight, who knows-"

"No!" he exclaimed and pushed away from me, he grabbed me by the arms, his grey eyes boring into mine, full of anger and fear and desperation, and love, always love.

"I don't want to. I won't. But that's why you have to do it… David. It's just one punch. It'll be over before you know it… and afterwards you can kiss it better..."

I could see the determination in his eyes when it built up. I instinctively clenched my teeth and curled my tongue up so that I wouldn't accidentally bite down on it. I tensed every muscle in my body, steeling myself. And he looked so sad, crestfallen even, that I began to have a change of heart.

About ten different Plan Bs flew through my mind but before I could settle on one his fist connected with my cheek bone and eye. A splitting pain seared through my skull. My entire face started throbbing. My eyes watered too, so I couldn't see his face clearly, but I didn't have to, I knew I'd broken his heart.

Then his hands were on either side of my face, cradling my head, and he was kissing the unhurt cheek and then he was sobbing into it. I hugged him to me as I blinked the tears away and tried to think straight despite the pain. I tried to come up with something to say, but my mind was a roaring fire of pain. Intellectually, logically, I knew it'd subside, that it was temporary, just like I'd told David, but in that moment when the pain is at its worst you believe, really believe, that you'll always be in it, that it'll never go away.

So I just clung to him, I don't even know who was comforting who at that point. But then he snuffled and tore away from me. He disappeared into my kitchen only to re-appear again with painkillers, a glass of water and a packet of frozen peas under one arm.

I chuckled and reached for him.

"Here", he said, all business-like.

"Can't put ice on it, darling, we need it to bruise, remember…"

He huffed and tossed the peas onto the coffee table.

"You can take these", he countered and more or less force-fed two pills to me and shoved the glass of water into my hands.

"Thank you", I told him. "See… that wasn't so bad, was it?"

"That…" he said, in that particularly quiet and throaty voice that he sometimes gets, as he slowly advanced on me like some predatory animal, steely eyes flashing at me. "was the first, and the last time… never… ask me to hurt you again."

"I love you", I whispered against the side of his mouth.

"I love you", he whispered back.

I know, I thought, you just proved it.

But I didn't say it. I could've called the whole thing off, then and there, spared his wife, told him a divorce will do, I just want to be with you, but I didn't do that. And it wasn't even about the money. Yes, he loved me, yes he'd proved it, and yes, I believed him. But I couldn't help but think that he must have loved her too, at some point, even if it was only for a brief moment. He tells me no, but I can't know for sure if that's true. Even if he isn't lying to me, he could just have forgotten, memory is unreliable, everyone knows that, I couldn't risk it. See, if he did love her at some point, even if it was just for a minute, then he could very well fall in love with her again.

Maybe I can blame greed for my actions after all, but it wasn't greed for money, but greed for love, for David. I want him, need to have him all to myself, and the way I saw it was that as long as she was out there, she'd always have a piece of him, and she'd always be a potential threat.

It wasn't personal. She was a good person, relatively. She was nice and kind, not to David anymore, really, but to me. She wasn't evil, is what I'm trying to say. But I just couldn't risk it.

"I love you", he murmured. "I love you, I love you, and I'm going to prove it to you."

Yes, you will, I thought.

"I know", I said.

"I'll prove it to you, once and for all, and then I will devote the rest of my life to make sure you know just how much I love you…"

Yes.

"And I'll never, ever hurt you, ever again."

"Nor I you, David."

And I meant it. I would break the promise of not making him hurt me later on, on the island, when we were improvising. I would pull him to me and kiss him like my life depended on it, and at the time I thought maybe it did, and I would tell him to hit me again; he shook his head desperately, rain from his hair splattered across my face.

"David", I hissed at him. "She's coming, you have to hit me, this is out last shot!"

And he did. He hit hit me again. But that wound healed too and our plan worked, in the end.

"Do you think we'll have it?" David had asked me that night after he'd punched me the first time and we lay cuddled up together on my bed, lazily watching some late night TV program together, trying not to think about the fact that he wouldn't be able to stay the night.

"Have what, love?"

"You know, 'Happily ever after'…"

"We'll have each other", I told him without pause. "That's all I care about."

He sighed happily.

"Me too", he whispered and planted a kiss on the top of my head.

After he'd left, I could barely feel any pain in my face, but I could still feel a lingering warmth where he'd kissed me. And I could feel that swelling feeling in my chest. And I knew I meant it, that having him was all I cared about.

I still mean it.

The End.


End file.
